Destiny Revealed
by slef
Summary: 500 years after Martin Septim's sacrifice, a mysterious stranger arrives and Lark has to solve the mystery to determine if he can help his friend after all this time. Sequel to Snippets of Destiny.
1. Part 1

**Destiny Revealed**

**Prologue:**

The Tamriel Bureau of Investigation is a semi-secret government agency specializing in the solving of violent crimes, counter-infiltration and information gathering, cataloguing and analysis. The operatives of the TBI are highly intelligent, well-trained professionals working mostly anonymously to ensure the safe and orderly way of life that people expect from this great nation.

The headquarters of the TBI are situated in Cyrodiil City, and from there the various department heads run field branches or dispatch field agents to wherever in the provinces their services are needed. The department heads report to a triumvirate consisting of the Minister of Security, the Commissioner of Police and a reclusive man known only by the code-name 'Lark'.

Rumour has it that this 'Lark' has his own secret headquarters somewhere in the Jeral Mountains, and that he oversees the TBI's information gathering and analysis departments. The fact that 'Lark' has been in charge of this facet of the TBI's operations since its inception, is easily explained by pointing out that a succession of people had been known by that code-name over the years.

It is not common knowledge that all of these people had been the same man, born over six hundred years ago. Once a minstrel and a Blade in the service of Emperor Uriel Septim, Lark is the only one who knows that the TBI is merely the modern front for the group known as the Blades.

**Part 1: Mystery**

**i.**

He dreamed of sunshine.

In his dream he walked on rolling green hills, beneath tall trees swaying in the wind. Bird song and the buzzing of insects filled his ears. He wanted to linger but his feet carried him onwards as the dream changed. Black clouds blotted out the sunlight; the breeze became a storm. Red lightning lit dark fissures and black crags with a lurid glow. Eternal fires burned within the ground. Carried ever onwards, he began to feel a fear born of despair - a fear that he would never escape this place.

Then he saw it: four stone pillars, and bound to them with chains and shackles, a dragon. The dragon lay spent between the pillars, the signs of its struggles carved into the solid rock beneath it. Its hide, once fiery red, was scuffed and dull, and the shackles had cut deep into its flesh.

He felt such sadness for the dragon's plight, but still the dream had hold of him and he could only reach out in compassion as he went by. The dragon lifted its head to regard him with hope, and as he left it behind he heard the dragon speak: "Find me, Lark. You must find me!"

**ii.**

Lark woke at the knock on his door. He sat up, disoriented, still halfway in his latest nightmare. The knock was repeated and he looked at his watch. 3am. Dragging a hand through his hair, he finally found his voice. "Yes?"

The door opened at a crack, and his young aide, Lume, peeked in. "I'm sorry to wake you, sir," she said. "But there is something you have to see."

Lark yawned. "Alright, I'll be there in a minute."

She withdrew, closing the door, and Lark flicked on the light, squinting his sensitive eyes against the brightness. He had learned years ago that fluorescent lighting burned him just as thoroughly as sunlight did, but good old-fashioned light bulbs worked a treat. That just meant that old Cloud Ruler would stay a little behind the times.

He dressed quickly, giving himself a critical look in the mirror on the way. The latest in experimental medicines kept his Vampirism symptoms pretty much suppressed, but if he missed a dose the red eyes, hollow cheeks and pale skin re-appeared. At the moment he looked normal, and only a few people knew of his condition.

Ablutions done, he left his room to find Lume waiting for him in the hallway. Lume was a fairly new recruit, straight from university where she had proven herself a wizard with computers and especially with extracting information from seemingly unrelated sets of data. Lark, always quick to size up people, had seen at her job interview that Lume would be most helpful as his personal aide. He wanted to eventually tell her some unbelievable things and she would be best prepared for them if she understood the workings of the organization as well as he did. So in stead of stuck in a little cubicle as she had expected to be, Lume travelled all over Nirn on Company business and reported back to Lark at regular intervals. She had rooms at Cloud Ruler to stay over when she was there, and whatever had happened must have been important for the staff to wake her.

"So what's up?" Lark asked.

"This way," she said and led the way to the main hall.

Lark was surprised to see most of his squad of security guards congregated near the door. "What's this?" he asked, walking closer, Lume a step behind.

The guards stepped aside to let him see. Two of them were holding a very peculiar man. His skin was pitch black, with red whorls visible in curious patterns across his arms, neck and face. He had red eyes, glowering from under dark brows, and there was a sardonic smile playing over clever, crooked lips. Lark catalogued features as he noted them, trying to figure out what he was seeing. When he noticed the horns growing from under the black hair, he finally remembered. "Dremora!" he exclaimed. He had never even seen one since that fateful day when Martin had summoned the Daedric Prince ... almost six hundred years ago.

This creature looked nothing like the Prince that Lark remembered. It was hard to focus on him, he was so black. And he had none of the arrogant attitude that Lark associated with Daedra. He stood passively in the grasp of the two guards, and he was trembling.

"Where did you catch him?" Lark asked.

A guard cleared his throat nervously. "We didn't exactly catch him, sir," he said. "He came to the door and knocked."

"And?" Lark said, gesturing to indicate the current situation.

"He asked to see you, and pushed inside before we could stop him," the guard explained.

"I see," Lark said. "Well, let him go." At their startled exclamations he sighed. "If he meant any harm you would not still be standing, friends. Let him go."

The guards let go of the Dremora's arms and stepped away. He seemed to relax and the trembling stopped. Lark realized he had been trembling with the effort of keeping himself still.

"You wanted to see me?" Lark asked.

"The dragon," the Dremora said. "I came to help the dragon."

"The dragon?" Lark remembered his nightmare. "Who are you?"

"Shadow," the Dremora replied. "You must help me..." He took two steps forward and stumbled, going down hard onto his hands and knees. "I escaped... days ago..." he whispered."Help me, please."

Lark regarded Shadow for a long moment. Everything he knew about Daedra told him not to trust the creature, and yet... the dragon. The dream came to him regularly and every time in more detail, and always ended with him unable to help the dragon. The appearance of a Dremora claiming to know something about the dragon was a little too coincidental to be a coincidence. And Lark felt sorry for him, because he looked so vulnerable on the floor.

Apparently, so did Lume. Before Lark could stop her she had sunk down next to Shadow and put her arm around his shoulders, supporting him. "Don't worry," she said. "We'll help you." She looked up at Lark. "We will, right?"

"We'll see," Lark said, unwilling to commit to anything yet. "At least, we'll feed him," he relented. "Alright, all of you. Thanks, and let's get back to work."

The guards saluted and returned to their posts. Lark held out a hand to Shadow. "Come on," he said. "You look exhausted." With Lume's help, Lark pulled Shadow upright. "This way." They took him to Lark's rooms where he sank gratefully into a chair.

Lume disappeared and came back shortly with bread, cheese and fruit juice. "All I could find in the kitchen," she apologised.

Shadow seemed not to mind and ravenously ate everything she brought. When he was done he looked down as if ashamed. "I have no manners," he said. "I am sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Lark said. "You can rest here for a while." He pointed to the couch. "We'll talk later."

"Thank you," Shadow said softly, lying down with a sigh. "It has been so long..." He did not even complete the sentence before he was asleep.

"The poor man," Lume whispered as they stepped out and closed the door.

"He's not exactly a man," Lark said, not wanting her to be caught off guard. "Dremora are creatures from the planes of Oblivion."

"And dragons are mythological creatures," she said. "It's not for real, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Lark said. "And it fills me with dread, because the Daedra are not supposed to be able to enter our plane of existence any more. Not since Martin's sacrifice..."

"Who?"

Lark shook his head sadly. "So time blunts the memories of those who should be grateful for what he had done... I suggest you go fire up your computer and do a little research on Martin Septim, and on the history of the Oblivion crises. I think we may need to know all about that before this little mystery will be played out."

"Yes sir," she said.

"Come see me at 10am," Lark said. "I'm going to get some more sleep and you should too... I'm not paying you to work this early in the day."

"Sleep well, sir," she said. As she made her way back to her room she couldn't help but think of the intriguing creature sleeping on the Boss' couch.

**iii.**

Lark went back into his room and looked closely at the sleeping Dremora. He was wearing some kind of skin-tight black leather clothing and boots. He looked like a swath of darkness spread out over the couch, with only the peculiar red lines making a break in the even tone of his skin. Closer examination of the red marks had Lark reeling back in shock. It was obvious that the lines were freshly carved into Shadow's flesh. Some of them still oozed blood. It must have been remarkably painful but the Dremora was so exhausted that the pain could not keep him awake.

Lark collected bandages and antiseptic cream, ready for when Shadow awoke. He did not want to disturb the sleeping Dremora. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a growing sense of compassion for the Dremora, who had obviously suffered much before coming here. He was also very curious to find out what Shadow's mission was. What he knew of Daedra did not fit with the image in front of him now. He had never heard of any of the Daedric creatures trying to 'help' anyone. They were more known (in legend, these days) as cruel, fierce warriors with no sense of mercy or compassion. Shadow was a riddle, or a trap, and Lark meant to find out which as soon as possible.

**iv.**

Shadow dreamed of fire. The planes of Oblivion always burned in one way or another, but the fire now followed him everywhere he went, burning his flesh with every movement. He whimpered in pain and heard the dragon moan in an echo of his anguish.

"I'll set you free!" Shadow gasped as he dragged himself over burning rocks. Just one more pull. And another. And another...

**v.**

When Lark got up again at 6:30am, Shadow was tossing feverishly on the couch. Lark shook his head, disgusted with himself. He wet a cloth and wiped Shadow's face, carefully avoiding the oozing wounds. Shadow suddenly snarled, grabbing Lark's hand and pushing it away with surprising strength.

"You're safe," Lark told him. "Remember? I'm Lark."

The confusion cleared from Shadow's eyes. "I'm sorry," he groaned. "Did I hurt you?"

"You did not," Lark assured him. "May I tend your wounds?"

Shadow nodded tiredly. "If you'll help me..." He tugged at his black shirt, trying to get it over his head.

Lark helped to peel it off; shocked to see that Shadow's entire body was criss-crossed with lines. "What happened to you?" he asked helplessly. His antiseptic cream would not be enough. Shadow needed proper medical care and yet he could not just take him to a hospital.

"It's a long story," Shadow said. "I can't seem to heal them."

Heal them? Lark gaped at him in astonishment. He had become so used to modern life and technology that he had all but forgotten about the old magic spells. And yet, long ago, he had known such things and used them as a matter of course. He wondered suddenly if magic still worked at all.

"I can try," he told Shadow. "Let me just think for a bit." The last time he had used the spell was to heal Martin in the cave, just after he had become a vampire. After that he had never needed it - one of the many perks of his condition was immortality, after all. But yes, he could recall how it went. He started the invocation.

**vi.**

Lume woke at 6:20am, remembered the strange visitor and got up quickly. She dressed and then decided to go see if he needed anything. At Lark's door she quietly sneaked in without knocking, just in time to see her boss make a strange gesture that resulted in a bright light enveloping the Dremora's form.

"Wow," she breathed. It looked like magic.

Lark swung round, startled. Then he turned back to Shadow to see if his spell had worked. It seemed that it had for the Dremora's wounds closed, leaving only scars.

Shadow let out a deep breath. "Thank you," he said simply.

"You're welcome," Lark grinned. He turned back to Lume. "Just another mythological happening, my dear."

"What did you just do?" she asked.

"He healed me," Shadow replied when Lark just shrugged.

"With... magic?" she said faintly.

Lark nodded.

"Who are you?"

Lark smiled. "You tell me, after you've done your research."

She sighed in exasperation. "Alright, I will."

"Good girl," Lark said. "Go to it!"

Thus dismissed she had no choice but to go. So she did.

**vii.**

Lark grinned at her retreating form before turning back to Shadow. "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better," Shadow said. "But I am hungry again."

"That's easily solved," Lark said. "Let's go see what we can find."

In the kitchen Lark found his cook, who raised her eyebrows at the unusual guest but set to making him a proper breakfast without comment. Lark ate sparingly as usual, and swallowed a couple of pills - iron supplements - to suppress his craving for blood. When Shadow was finished, Lark decided it was high time to find out what the Dremora wanted.

"Right," Lark said. "You're rested, healed and fed... you've been remarkably docile for a Dremora... and you've gotten me very curious indeed. Will you tell me about the dragon? And what I can do to help?"

A frown crossed Shadow's expressive face. "I'm not sure what to tell you," he said finally. "A lot of what I know is a blur, very confusing."

"Just take your time," Lark encouraged. "What can you remember?"

"I remember pain, and fire," Shadow whispered. "Screaming."

"Whose screaming?"

"Mine, I think," Shadow said. "I can't remember where I came from. I was just... there, suddenly. In an awful place. There were pits of fire, and horrid creatures tormenting a great beast chained to pillars."

"The dragon," Lark breathed.

"Yes," Shadow said. "I didn't know what was going on, but I could feel the dragon's pain as if they were torturing me in stead." He grimaced. "These wounds on my skin... they just appeared while the creatures were torturing the dragon." He swallowed. "I don't know how long it lasted, but after some time they let the dragon be, and went away. I crawled to the dragon and collapsed next to it and for a while I knew nothing more." He shuddered with remembered pain.

Lark reached out a soothing hand and Shadow jerked away.

"I won't hurt you," Lark said, surprised.

"I know," Shadow said. "I can't help it, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Lark said. "What happened then?"

"I woke when the dragon pushed at me. It looked even worse than I felt, with wounds all over its body. Somehow I knew that I had to help it, to set it free. The dragon spoke to me, I think. Or... I don't know. But I knew I had to get away before the creatures returned. And I knew I had to find you."

"Me?" Lark knew he was involved somehow, because Shadow's story matched his dreams so closely. The question was why?

"I don't know why," Shadow said, reading his mind. "I just knew I had to find you, urgently. I left the dragon and started to make my way somewhere... else. I have no idea where. Then the creatures returned and resumed their horrible pastime. One moment I was climbing a ridge and the next I was on the ground rolling in agony. This mark here appeared then." The mark in question was slashed across his torso from collar bone to hip. "I realized that I would just have to keep moving regardless, or I would never get away." He closed his eyes for a moment. "It was very hard. And I still don't know how or when I escaped that place. But at some point I saw that it was dark all around me, no fires or red sky in sight."

"Where were you?" Lark wondered.

"It was a cave." Shadow said. "When I finally got outside it was night, and there were buildings with bright lights everywhere. I don't know what I had expected but it wasn't this. There were fast-moving things with more bright lights going down roads..."

"Cars," Lark said.

"I wouldn't know," Shadow shrugged. "I walked and kept to the shadows as much as possible. I finally saw a sign that said something about Chorrol County, so I assume I must have been close to Chorrol."

"Chorrol is a suburb of Cyrodiil City," Lark explained. "Long ago it was a separate town."

"A suburb?" Shadow asked. "I'm not sure I know what that means. But anyway, I knew I had to come to Cloud Ruler Temple near Bruma to find you. I had to travel at night and find shelter in the daytime because then the torture would start..."

"Still?" Lark interrupted.

"Soon," Shadow said. "In a while. It was really hard to find shelter; you have a very peculiar country here. It's not at all what I expected."

"It has changed a lot over the last few centuries," Lark conceded. "They call it progress."

"Whatever," Shadow said. "So here I am; I've found you, but I'm not at all sure why you in particular, or how you could help the dragon."

"We will figure it out," Lark promised. "I'll do whatever I can to help you."

"I'm not important..." Shadow gasped suddenly. "It's starting!"

In front of Lark's astonished eyes a large gash appeared on Shadow's face, and he groaned in pain. "To help me, you have to free the dragon," he managed to say before another wound appeared.

Aghast, Lark half-carried the Dremora to a room, where he cast healing spells to no avail. Each wound healed but a new one would appear to replace it. "What can I do?" he asked the moaning Dremora.

"Just... let me be," Shadow said through clenched teeth. "There is nothing you can do."

Lark watched for a while, until he could not stand it any longer, and then he left. He had never in his long life felt quite so helpless and so horrified. He went to his office, thinking about what the Dremora had said and what was happening to him. He could almost put his finger on what this mystery meant, but it seemed he was still missing a final link before it could fall into place.

**viii.**

Exactly at 10am, Lume knocked on Lark's office door.

"Come," Lark called and she entered. "So, what have you learned?" he asked, interested to hear what she could dredge up from old records in a few hours' time.

She sat down, knowing Lark never stood on ceremony. "Not very much," she said. "Most of the records were lost in the political upheavals at the end of the Third Age." She flipped open her notebook computer. "Apparently, Martin Septim was the illegitimate son of Emperor Uriel Septim. After the assassinations of Uriel and his heirs, Martin would have become Emperor." She sighed. "Unfortunately the only source for this information must have been a very fanciful and romantic minstrel, for he goes on about Daedra from Oblivion and how Martin defeated them by becoming a dragon." She shook her head. "These are obviously literary devices to symbolize the end of the Third Age." She looked up to see Lark grinning at her. "What?"

"Who was this romantic minstrel?" Lark asked innocently.

Lume tapped a few keys. When the answer appeared she looked up quizzically at Lark. "It says his name was Lark."

Lark nodded. "Amazing, these computers."

She still didn't understand. "What is the significance of the codename 'Lark'? Does it have something to do with this minstrel?"

"It isn't a code-name," Lark explained gently. "It's my own name... or at least, that's what people called me."

"You... you're the minstrel? That's impossible!"

"Not impossible," Lark said. "Have you heard of a condition called Porphyric Haemophilia?"

She nodded slowly, her eyes growing wide. "Vampires are just stories..."

"These days, yes," Lark agreed. "There are very few of us left."

She instinctively started to get up and he could see the growing fear in her eyes. Once again he cursed the 'stories' that made all vampires evil - things to scare children with at night.

"Lume," he said earnestly. "Have I ever harmed you? Have you ever heard that I harmed anyone at all? No? Then be assured that I am not about to change into a monster just because you now know about it."

Her common sense saw the logic in this and she settled back into the chair. "So why tell me now?"

"So that you have all the facts in the mystery of Shadow," Lark said with a smile. "I need another head thinking about this. Take some notes, will you? I spoke with Shadow and there is something that I'm missing."

"Alright," she said, tapping more keys.

"Okay," Lark said. "Of ancient history: The Oblivion invasion was real. Daedra did attack through Oblivion gates. Martin used the Amulet of Kings, became the avatar of Akatosh, defeated Mehrunes Dagon and died of his wounds, according to witnesses."

"This is so weird," she said. "You want me to believe myths and legends... I'm not even sure I believe you are really a vampire! You don't look like a vampire..."

"I take medication," Lark grinned. "But have a good look at my teeth." He obligingly smiled wide so that she could see his elongated canines. "Satisfied?"

"I guess so," she said. "I'll believe myths and legends on probation. What's next?"

"Shadow's story," Lark said. "He doesn't have any memory of who he is or where he came from; he just remembers suddenly being aware of pain in a place that sounds to me like the planes of Oblivion. He reports seeing a dragon being tortured, and he shares the dragon's wounds..."

Lume stopped typing. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly that," Lark said. "Whatever is done to the dragon happens to him as well."

She shuddered. "That's awful... go on."

"He claims he doesn't know how he got here, but that he had to find me specifically to help the dragon. And finally, I've been having dreams for weeks, about a dragon asking me for help." He frowned. "I think that about sums it up. The question now is what is my connection to all this? And what am I supposed to do?"

**ix.**

"It won't be pretty," Lark warned, his hand on the door knob. "Are you sure you want to see this?"

Lume nodded resolutely. "It's not that I don't believe you, but... I don't believe you, you know?"

"I understand," Lark said. "This is a huge adjustment you have to make in your thinking." He took a deep breath. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." He opened the door.

After several hours of torture the Dremora was in a terrible state. He lay on the floor, and it was obvious that he had thrashed around a lot earlier, but now he was nearly unconscious and unaware of his surroundings.

Lume gasped at the sight, as Lark's description had not prepared her for the reality. "Oh, this is horrible," she whispered. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

Lark knelt next to Shadow. "I tried healing him but I couldn't keep up. Tonight when it stops, I'll try again." He felt Shadow's pulse. "He's strong enough." Preparing to get up he heard something - almost just a vibration - coming from deep inside Shadow's chest. He leaned closer and listened intently for a moment, then sat back with a stunned expression.

"What is it?" Lume asked.

"He's singing," Lark said. "Listen closely."

It was little more than a drone in the Dremora's rough voice, but after a while she could make out words. "... have been growing... before your ancestors were born..." He became quiet for a few moments, and then started up again. "Sunlight is peeking..."

Lark was shaking his head in denial. "No, no, no... This is impossible!" Abruptly, he got up and stormed out, leaving Lume staring after him in confusion.

**x.**

She found him on the balustrade overlooking the City. He was alternating between pacing frantically or standing rigidly, hands clenching the railing.

"Lark," she said hesitantly when he paid her no attention.

He stopped his pacing and faced her. "Do you know what that was?"

"What, the song?"

He nodded.

"No, I don't know it."

"No-one does," he said. "No-one today." He swung back to the railing. "And few enough, before..."

"I don't understand," she said.

"I wrote that song," he said expressionlessly. "It wasn't very popular. In fact, the only one who liked it was Martin."

Suddenly she understood what had upset him so much. "And Martin became a dragon..."

He looked at her, anguished. "Could it be? Has he been trapped and tortured there for almost six hundred years?" He beat his hands against the railing. "If only I had known!"

"What could you have done?" she asked softly.

"I don't know! Something, anything!" He sagged against the railing. "I have failed him so badly!" His body shook with suppressed sobs.

"Hush now," she said, instinctively stepping closer and holding him. "You couldn't have known. But now that Shadow is here, you have a chance to help him."

"Shadow..." He looked up at her. "But what is Shadow?"

She let him go and turned to look over the City. "I think I'm beginning to understand," she said slowly. "I'm making some assumptions, but..." She shrugged. "I'm assuming that Martin was pretty good at magic."

Lark nodded.

"I'm assuming that when he defeated Dagon he somehow became trapped in the form of the dragon, and was captured on the planes of Oblivion. Perhaps over years of torture he became able to... project himself from his body." She caught Lark's incredulous look. "I don't know, I'm guessing, alright?"

"Yes, alright," Lark said.

"I think Shadow was one of the Dremora torturing him... and he took over Shadow's body."

"Then why doesn't he know who he is?" Lark asked.

"Perhaps he didn't really take Shadow over," she mused. "He may just be able to influence or motivate him, or something." She sighed. "There is clearly a link between them."

"True," Lark conceded. "Go on."

"Well, that's it, actually." She smiled weakly. "I guess he made Shadow come look for you, and that's where we are right now."

Lark thought for a moment. "So, Shadow could break free of his control and revert to being a vicious Dremora at any time..."

She shuddered. "I suppose so, but..."

"What?"

"I don't want Shadow to be evil," she said softly. "I like him."

"You like Martin," Lark cautioned. "If you're right, and I think you are."

She sighed deeply. "I guess."

It was Lark's turn to lay a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Don't worry about it, Lume. We certainly don't know enough yet to tell what will happen." He smiled. "Come on, there's a lot of things I need to find out. Do you know of anyone who collects old artefacts?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll go look in my database..."


	2. Part 2

**Part 2: Preparations**

**i.**

He was floating in a black void, surrounded by swirling lights and sounds. He tried to focus on the lights but they blurred and moved away, so he gave up after a while. The sounds came and went and returned until he recognised the voice.

"He's out cold," Lark said. "Shadow? Can you hear me?"

A moment passed during which Shadow tried to respond but could not find the energy.

"I'd better heal him," Lark continued.

The thought of being healed galvanised him from his stupor. "No!" he exclaimed, clutching at Lark's shirt. "Please, don't!"

"What? Why not?"

Shadow struggled to sit up, and Lark helped him after a moment's hesitation.

"The torture," Shadow gasped. "It was... much worse, this time."

"I can see that," Lark said, looking at Shadow's myriad wounds. "Which is why you need healing so urgently."

"No!" Shadow could feel his limbs trembling at the thought. "Don't you see? You healed me this morning, and it made them angry. It was worse because you healed me!"

"But..." Lark hesitated. "They can't see you, can they?"

"They see the dragon," Shadow said weakly, wanting to lie back down.

"Oh my..." Lume said, walking into view. "Lark, when you heal Shadow you heal the dragon too! What happens to the one, happens to the other!"

Lark was shaking his head. "That should be impossible. There isn't enough energy in my spell to heal both Shadow and a dragon."

Shadow suddenly knew something about that. "It's the energy potential caused by the difference between the planes of existence," he explained.

Lark and Lume regarded him curiously. "What do you mean?" Lark asked.

"The realms of Oblivion are on a lower plane of existence than this one," Shadow said. "So a spell that goes through a conduit from here to there gains power about ten-fold."

"That makes sense," Lume said, but Lark was frowning.

"How do you know this?"

"I just..." Shadow was at a loss. The knowledge had just come to him. "I just know, all of a sudden."

Lark gave Lume a significant look. "Martin would know such things," he said. "Do you suppose the dragon can hear us through you, Shadow?"

Shadow tried shrugging but he hurt too much. "I don't know... Yes, Lark," he continued in another tone of voice.

"Martin?!" Lark exclaimed. "Is this for real?"

There was a moment's pause. "I can't do this for long, Lark. It is unfortunately very real, my friend. And I hate to involve you in my problem but it is important to more than just me that I escape."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lark said. "Of course I want to help you; I don't care why."

"Thank you," Martin/Shadow said simply. "Lark, you need to find the Key of Akatosh. It is the only thing that can free me."

"Alright," Lark said. "Tell me quickly: Is Shadow dangerous?"

"Shadow is not what he appears to be," Martin/Shadow said. "He doesn't come from the realms of Oblivion at all, but from a dimension far removed from here. He responded to my call for help. The dream you had, Lark – he had it too. But he stayed to help me. You could say he is still in the dream."

"I would have stayed if I could," Lark said, feeling guilty.

"I know, my friend," Martin/Shadow said. "I have to stop now... Find the Key. Shadow will guide you to me when you have it."

"Martin!" Lark cried when the voice stopped.

Shadow sighed. "He's gone," he said softly. "I understand a lot of things now."

"So do I," Lark said bitterly. "I can just look at you to see how my friend must look – yet I can do nothing to help either of you without making it worse." He turned and walked out, unable to stand it any longer.

Shadow lay back, feeling sorry for Lark.

"Shadow?"

He looked up at Lume. "Yes?"

"Is there anything I can do to help, that won't make things worse?" she asked.

"Anything that isn't a magic spell," he said. "I want to help the dragon too, but healing us both just isn't worth it."

"I understand," she said. "I can clean up your wounds and give you something for the pain if you want..."

"I'd appreciate that," he said softly.

"Don't go anywhere," she said, making for the door. "I'll be right back."

**ii.**

Lark sat in his office, torn between going back and talking with Shadow in the hopes that Martin will come through again, or finding out everything he could about the Key of Akatosh. Logic won out in the end: If he found the Key and freed Martin, there would be no problem. And Martin had told him what to do.

He picked up the phone and made a call to an old acquaintance, getting his secretary as usual. "Hello, may I speak to Mr. Hassildor?" he asked.

"Who may I say is calling?"

"Tell him it's Lark," Lark said patiently. Hassildor was even more reclusive than himself. After a few moments the erstwhile Count of Skingrad spoke.

"Good day, Lark. What can I do for you?"

"Janus, I have need of your inestimable knowledge of ancient artefacts and magic," he plunged straight in.

"You say that every time," Hassildor complained.

"I've said it once before. Once!" Lark said. "Come on, old friend. Aren't you curious?"

"I don't know, old chap," the vampire Count said. "I find everything very tedious these days. Curiosity has no meaning when one knows everything that can possibly happen given the circumstances."

Still as arrogant as ever, Lark thought. "Alright, you can tell me what I'm calling about. If you're right, perhaps you'll still help me. If you're wrong, you'll have the pleasure of encountering something new."

"It's obvious, dear Lark," Hassildor said. "You want to find out what the Akaviri are up to. I've told you before it's no use to try and infiltrate an agent there. You'll just have to pay for information."

Lark shook his head. Politics seemed so shallow and far removed from the reality of his life right now. "No," he said a little smugly. "That's not why I called."

"Indeed?" Hassildor affected polite surprise. "Pray tell, then."

"I have need of two things," Lark said. "First, I am looking for an artefact known as the Key of Akatosh. And I also need something that can cast a constant shield around the bearer. Something quite strong, if possible."

"Interesting," Hassildor said. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you need these things?"

Lark sighed. "I'm not telling you over the phone. If you want to find out, you'd better come and see."

"I may just do that," Hassildor said.

"So, can you help me find these artefacts?"

"Yes, to the second, but I'll have to find out about the first," the vampire said.

"You have a shield?" Lark could not keep the excitement from his voice. "How soon can you get here?"

"Oh, in a few hours," came the reply.

"Wonderful," Lark said. "Thanks Janus. I'll tell the guards to expect you."

"Yes, do that," Hassildor chuckled. "I wouldn't want to hurt them." He broke the connection before Lark could come up with a response to that.

Lark sat back, feeling better. His idea might not work, but at least he was trying. And Hassildor was an old and very powerful mage; one of the handful left in Tamriel. His advice could be very useful. Pity it was such a chore to drag it out of him at times.

**iii.**

You're lucky," Lume said, cleaning Shadow's wounds. "None of these are serious."

"They're not meant to be," Shadow said tolerantly, feeling a bit mellow after drinking the pain medication. "They are meant to hurt, not kill."

"Oh," she said. "I can't imagine anyone doing something like this on purpose."

"That's because you're a nice person," he smiled.

She looked down, embarrassed. "So... have you remembered anything of where you came from?"

"Sort of," he replied, frowning. "It's like a dream, and I'm awake now and can't quite remember the details. But it's a cool and dark place with lots of water and trees. I like to think it's a peaceful place, but I have the feeling there are dangers in the darkness."

"Is that why your skin is so dark?" she wondered. "To hide from the dangers?"

He smiled, showing white teeth. "Perhaps... or maybe I am one of the dangers."

"I don't think so," she said staunchly. "You chose to help Martin; that means you're a nice person too."

"Lume," he chuckled. "You're such an optimist. But that's a good thing, I think... What does your name mean?" he asked, going off on a tangent.

"It means 'glowing light' or something," she said. "My parents were a bit too lyrical at my birth."

"No," he said. "I can see it. They chose a very apt name for you."

"Oh sure," she said a bit sarcastically.

"I mean it," Shadow insisted, reaching out and taking her hand. "Will you light my way through darkness?"

"Um, that depends on what you mean," she said, extracting her hand.

He shook his head. "I've offended you. I'm sorry!"

"No, I'm not offended," she denied. "But what did you mean?"

"I simply asked if you would be my friend," he said softly.

She smiled at him. "That, I would do gladly, friend."

He sighed as if in relief. "Then, can I ask you to stay with me as I sleep? Perhaps you will keep away the nightmares..."

She nodded. "Rest easy, Shadow. I'll be here."

**iv.**

In the early evening the sound of a landing helicopter heralded the arrival of Janus Hassildor, vampire and legitimate Count of Skingrad. Lark watched from his window as Hassildor disembarked and ducked away from the 'copter to avoid the still turning blades.

He stopped to speak with Lark's security guard, and Lark grinned to notice that he still carried himself with an attitude of nobility, expecting respect and instant obedience hundreds of years after Tamriel's feudal system had been replaced by a democracy.

Lark sometimes wondered if Hassildor did it on purpose to disconcert people or if the attitude was so ingrained that he was not even aware of it. In any case, Hassildor still lived in style, and apart from not actually living in Castle Skingrad, might as well still be the Count of the place, since he had never been much for socializing and his staff had run Skingrad in his name.

Lark went down to the entrance hall to meet him. "Janus, nice to see you," he greeted, shooing away security guards.

"I see you've finally converted the place to use electricity," Hassildor said, looking around disdainfully.

Lark sighed. So it was like that again, was it. Every time he had to go through a mock battle of wits with the man, before they could move on to the true purpose of their meetings. Lark supposed Hassildor did it to provide his unquestionably sharp intellect with some entertainment, but it could be annoying to put up with. Still, Hassildor could call the shots while he held the information that Lark needed.

"Not any old electricity," Lark therefore enthused. "I've got a nuclear power station in the basement. Want to see?"

Hassildor stared at him. "Don't you know that radioactivity makes vampire teeth fall out?"

"Of course," Lark said. "That's the final stage in my treatment, or so my doctor tells me. Speaking of treatment, how's yours coming along?"

Hassildor sniffed. "Your doctor is a quack, Lark, to prescribe such ridiculous treatments. Mine is a genius – did I tell you he had me soaking in a mud bath for days to cure the skin condition?"

Lark grinned at him. "You're as crazy as ever, I'm glad to see."

Hassildor chuckled. "You're the only one who still plays along, Lark. Old vampires are such a bore in most cases."

"That they are," Lark agreed. "Can I get you something? Wine, milk, blood?"

"I'm trying to quit," Hassildor said, smiling. "Some wine would be nice."

As they walked to the study, Lark quickly told Hassildor about his dreams and his unusual visitor.

"You never met Martin, did you?" he asked as they sat down with their glasses.

"No," Hassildor said. "I did meet his footpad... the Champion. Useful chap."

Lark smiled. Trust Hassildor not to be impressed with the heroics of the Champion of Cyrodiil. "Anyway, Martin is trapped in Oblivion, and we need the Key of Akatosh to free him. Do you have any information about it?"

Hassildor shook his head. "I left some messages but I have nothing concrete yet. You might want this now, though." He stood up and unbuckled his belt, removing it and handing it to Lark. "I made it myself, long ago."

Lark took the belt. It tingled beneath his fingers, betraying the presence of enchantment. "What exactly does it do?" he asked, fingering the finely tooled leather.

"It casts a constant shield effect of about 20," Hassildor said. "Enough to deflect arrows, punches and most blades."

"Excellent," Lark said with satisfaction. "How long will it last?"

"It's fully charged," Hassildor said. "A couple of months. It's the least I could do for my old friend Lark. Will you give it to Shadow?"

"Yes," Lark said. "If Martin is right and spells gain power ten-fold through the conduit, then he should have a constant effect shield of about 200 while Shadow wears it."

"A formidable obstacle," Hassildor agreed. "This is actually a very good idea, Lark. If all goes to plan, that is. Theoretically the dragon should be completely safe within that shield, because they will not be able to to dispel it without access to the belt itself."

"That's what I'm hoping," Lark said. "So I can heal Shadow and keep both of them safe from then onwards."

"Impressive," Hassildor grinned. "You are at least not slowing down in old age."

"Meaning you are?" Lark teased. "Perhaps you should go lie in that mud bath again for a while..."

**v.**

Lume sat beside the sleeping Shadow, watching him breathe. Every now and then his breathing would get agitated and he would start tossing on his bed. Lume would then reach out and place her hand on his forehead, whispering "You're safe, it's just a dream," and he would subside and sleep quietly again.

She pondered the strange things that had suddenly intruded into her previously routine life. She had found out that her boss was a vampire; that magic was real and actually worked; that in a horrible place called Oblivion, a noble man was trapped in the form of a dragon and tortured daily; that this aptly named Shadow was suffering to help the dragon.

She wondered what it was that she felt for Shadow. Compassion, certainly, but also admiration. She thought that he was incredibly brave, but she was realistic enough to understand that he was just dealing with a situation he had no control over. Still, he was handling it with quiet dignity despite the terrible pain he was enduring. A dignity that was worthy of admiration.

She was not quite ready to admit to herself that she thought he was very handsome, despite being scarred and so unusual-looking.

She was so engrossed in this train of thought that she was startled when the door opened. She quickly snatched her hand off Shadow's arm and turned to face Lark, who was showing another man into the room. The newcomer was a tall, dark-haired gentleman, elegantly dressed. He looked at her and smiled knowingly, as if he knew what she had been thinking about.

She blushed. "Ah, he's sleeping now," she stammered.

Lark smiled at her. "You're doing great, thanks Lume." He gestured to his guest. "This is Janus Hassildor. Janus, my personal aide, Lume."

Hassildor executed a courtly bow. "Charmed."

Lume nodded in confusion.

"Just so there are no surprises later," Lark said. "Janus is a vampire too, Lume. But he's almost civilized these days," he grinned. "You have nothing to fear."

Hassildor snorted. "I was civilized and well-respected long before you were born, whelp," he said absently, looking at Shadow's sleeping form. "Most remarkable. You say he's not from Oblivion?"

"Apparently not," Lark said, dropping the teasing. "But he bears a striking resemblance to the Dremora race."

"Apart from that black skin," Hassildor agreed. "Are you going to wake him?"

"He's been struggling to sleep!" Lume protested.

"I know," Lark said. "But I want to help him as soon as possible." He gently shook Shadow's arm. "Shadow? I'm sorry to wake you..."

Shadow groaned, covering his face with an arm. "What is it?" he asked finally.

"I have something that may help," Lark said.

Shadow heaved a deep breath and struggled to sit upright. With Lume and Lark helping him, he managed it and noticed Hassildor standing there. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Janus Hassildor, at your service," Hassildor said.

Shadow merely blinked at him.

"Janus brought you this, Shadow," Lark said, holding out the belt. "It casts a constant shield on the wearer."

"A shield," Shadow said. "Do you think that will help?"

"It should," Lark replied. "It will be a very strong shield for Martin; he should be perfectly safe if you wear it."

"I don't know about this," Shadow said. "Won't the presence of a shield just motivate them to use stronger weapons and magic to torture him?"

"I'm hoping a 200 shield will keep anything they have off him," Lark said. "Do you know what he thinks about this? Can you tell?"

Shadow tried to reach for the presence of the dragon, but could sense nothing but exhaustion. "I think he's sleeping," he said finally.

Lark sighed. "Look, I certainly don't want to expose either you or Martin to even more pain and suffering, but if I do nothing, the pain will surely continue. If the shield works, you'll be spared that, and you'll be able to function while we look for the Key. What do you say?"

After a long moment, Shadow nodded. "Alright, I'll try it."

"Good," Lark smiled in relief. "Let me help you put it on."

With a few grunts of pain they got the belt strapped around Shadow's waist.

"How can you tell if it's working?" Lume asked when nothing seemed to happen.

"Try to hit him," Hassildor suggested.

"I'll do no such thing!" she exclaimed, shocked.

"It's alright," Shadow said. "You don't have to hit hard, just try it."

"If you say so," she said dubiously, taking a mild swing at him. Before her hand reached him, it seemed to slip off something in the air and she missed hitting him. "Wow," she breathed. "It works!"

"Of course," Hassildor said. "I made it myself."

"It's perfect," Lark said sincerely. "How can I repay you?"

"I'll think of something," Hassildor grinned. "Something suitably expensive."

Lark rolled his eyes. "Of course." He turned back to Shadow. "Can I heal you now? The shield should prevent further injury to either of you."

Shadow nodded. "You might as well complete the experiment."

"Very well," Lark said and invoked the spell.

When the bright light had faded, all Shadow's wounds were merely scars, and he sighed in relief. "Thank you," he said. "I hope you won't have to do this again soon."

"You and me both, my friend," Lark smiled. "Now, let's all get some proper rest. We'll be back in the morning to see how it goes."

**vi.**

Lark rose early the next morning. He was anxious to see if his plan would work, and would not even contemplate the consequences if it did not. Before he left his room he quickly grabbed some spare clothes, and then went to the room where they had put Shadow the previous day. Carefully opening the door, he was amused to find Lume already there, watching Shadow sleep.

"Were you here all night?" he whispered.

She nodded. "I promised I would stay with him."

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked, concerned.

"A bit," she said and yawned.

He shook his head at this. "Go on, go get some rest. We've a few hours before we'll know." Noticing her reluctance, he added, "I'll stay with him, don't worry."

"Alright," she yawned again. "I'll see you later."

Lark took her place at Shadow's side as she left. He studied Shadow closely, noting the strong, chiselled features and the crooked, clever lips. No wonder Lume was so fascinated, he thought. Looking past the superficial similarities, there was no way one could mistake Shadow's noble visage for that of a Dremora. He wondered what Shadow's race was called, and where they made their home.

Shadow stirred and woke up.

"Good morning," Lark said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

Shadow stood up and stretched. "Well enough, for now," he said wryly. "Let's hope it remains that way."

"Yes," Lark agreed. "Would you like to get clean?"

Shadow looked at himself and was obviously shocked at the state he was in. Lark's spell had healed him but dried streaks of blood remained where the wounds had been. "I'd like that," he said in reply.

"Come on," Lark said. "I'll show you the bathing room." Leading the way, he told Shadow that in addition to the normal facilities in all the quarters, Cloud Ruler also had a special bathing room consisting of a heated swimming pool and a number of mineral baths fed by hot springs. "It's kind of funny to think of these hot springs existing in the coldest part of Cyrodiil," he chatted as they made their way into the basement.

"You must really love bathing," Shadow said, looking with awe at the pools of steaming water.

"It seemed like a waste to let the water just run down the mountain to cool off along the way," Lark said. "Here, I brought you some swimming trunks, spare clothing and towels. I'll get your own stuff cleaned. Meanwhile, enjoy. I'll be back in half an hour."

Shadow nodded in thanks. "I really appreciate this, Lark."

"You're welcome," Lark smiled. "If you need anything, use the phone over there." He pointed to a wall-mounted phone. "Just pick it up and talk, someone will let me know." With that, he left Shadow to bathe in privacy.

**vii.**

Shadow plunged into the pool, revelling in the feeling of water moving over his skin without causing him pain. He came up for air and smoothed the water and wet strands of hair from his face. At that moment the door opened and Hassildor walked in, stopping short when he saw Shadow in the pool.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I didn't know someone was in here."

Shadow noticed Hassildor was carrying a towel. Since it was not a private bathroom he did not feel it was right for him to monopolize the place. "No, come in," he invited. "I don't mind."

Hassildor looked surprised but came in. "I always visit Lark's 'nuclear power station' when I'm here," he said as he removed his dressing gown and slippers and got into the water.

"His what?" Shadow asked, confused.

Hassildor laughed. "Just a private joke," he explained. "Lark and I play these silly little games to keep ourselves amused. The latest is that he has a nuclear power station in the basement, so this must be it."

"What's a nuclear power station?" Shadow asked, as confused as ever.

"Of course, you wouldn't know," Hassildor apologized. "A power station is something that generates the energy we use to create light," he gestured to the lighting fixtures, "and to power all our technological gadgets."

Shadow nodded. He had noticed the lights but circumstances had not been optimal to inquire about them. "I expect there are a lot of things I don't know about."

"Well, you have no need to," Hassildor said. "What is it like, where you come from?"

"I can't seem to remember much," Shadow said. "As I told Lume, it's like I'm trying to remember a dream, and the best I can get are impressions. But I don't think it's even remotely similar to your world."

Hassildor frowned thoughtfully. "Didn't Martin say you were still in the dream?"

"Yes," Shadow said. "But I'm not sure what he meant. Am I sleeping in my world and none of this is real?"

Hassildor smiled. "It's real enough, I'll wager. But the debate is always about the nature of reality."

Shadow shrugged. "I'll leave the debate to the philosophers," he said, hauling himself from the pool. "I'd rather get some breakfast and face whatever may come on a full stomach, dream or not." He started towelling himself dry.

"You have an admirable positive attitude," Hassildor remarked, joining him.

"Well, if it's a dream, what can I do about it?" Shadow asked. "Nothing. And if it's real, it must be important, so I will hold out and complete whatever I'm meant to do."

"Admirable," Hassildor nodded. "As I said."

**viii.**

"How long has Martin been trapped?" Lark wondered as they were eating breakfast. "I mean, I can't believe it's been five and a half centuries."

"Why not?" Hassildor asked, buttering toast.

"Well, I had a strange experience when I visited his statue, very long ago," Lark said. "When I touched the statue I was filled with a feeling of joy and contentment. At the time, I hoped it signified that Martin was in a better place. I can't believe that would have been the case had he been in this situation." He looked inquiringly at Shadow. "Any ideas?"

Shadow 'reached' for the dragon. It was a matter of imagining himself next to the dragon and once again hearing him speak in his mind. "He's only been there since you've been getting the dreams," he said after a moment.

"About a month," Lark said. "Where was he before?"

"I just get the impression of some place bright," Shadow said. "I don't think he wants to talk, the torture session must be about to begin."

They all regarded him seriously. Lume sat up straight from where she had been lying over the table with her head propped up on her arm. Hassildor rested his chin on his clasped hands and waited patiently to see what would happen. Lark unexpectedly extended his hand to Shadow, who grasped it gratefully and braced himself for the pain.

Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. All of a sudden, Shadow could 'see' through the dragon's eyes. A throng of Daedric creatures were bombarding the dragon with spells and physical weapons. All of them missed. Every so often a deflected fireball or lightning strike would hit amongst the creatures, causing carnage and confusion.

"They can't get through!" he laughed in triumph. He was on his feet; Lark was clapping him on his back and laughing; Hassildor was pumping his hand up and down and somehow, he was embracing Lume and swinging her up into the air. When all had settled down, he made a point of congratulating Hassildor. "It's amazing how the shield just deflects everything!"

Hassildor cleared his throat modestly. "It's a spell of my own design," he said. "In stead of trying to absorb and dissipate the energy of the offensive spell or attack, the enchantment simply ensures that it never actually connects. It works on the principle of quantum mechanics..." He laughed. "Never mind, it's too technical!"

"So it's not really a shield at all," Lume realized. "You should call it a deflector."

Hassildor smiled broadly. "For you, dear lady, anything."

Lume blushed, saw that she was still hugging Shadow's arm and blushed even more as she extricated herself. "So what's next?" she asked to change the unspoken subject.

"The Key," Lark answered and Shadow emphatically agreed.

"I'd better check in with my secretary," Hassildor said.

"I'll get some agents working on it," Lark said.

"I'll go see what I can find, too," Lume said. "Shadow, do you want to see my computer?"

Lark and Hassildor laughed at her, but as Shadow eagerly agreed, she did not mind a bit.

**ix.**

"This is the seat of power," Lume joked as she rolled her chair up to her desk. Shadow gingerly sat down on a second chair, grabbing for safety when it rolled on the tiled floor.

"Really?" he asked after he had achieved stability.

"No," she replied with a mischievous grin. "But I like to pretend it is."

Shadow smiled absently as he looked at the strange contraption on the desk. "So what's this?"

"Well," she hesitated. "It's like a huge library..."

He indicated that he knew what a library was.

Encouraged, she continued. "This computer allows me to access all the information in the library without having to go to the physical books."

He did not really understand but nodded anyway because she was so earnest. "Show me?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "See, I type in my query here..." The word 'Dremora' appeared on the screen as she tapped knobs with letters on them. "See, there it is on the screen. Now I just run the query..." She did something with another device. "And there we go, lots of results."

The screen was indeed now filled with text. "Why Dremora?" he asked.

"Oh," she shrugged. "Just curious because Lark said you look like one."

"Do I?" he wondered. "What do they look like?"

She did something on the computer. "Let's see."

A picture appeared on the screen, obviously a hand-drawn sketch. It portrayed a vicious-looking creature with dark, purplish-brown skin. Long black horns curled through its hair and over its head. Its face was twisted into a hateful snarl. It was wearing fearsome red-and-black armour and was wielding a cruel sword.

They looked at the picture for a long, quiet moment. Shadow, recognizing the torturers from Oblivion, felt horrified to realize that these people associated him with the Dremora. Lume just thought the creature looked terrifying.

"Please say I don't look like that to you," Shadow said softly.

"No!" she said vehemently. "No, not at all," she continued more calmly. "You are gentle and noble and..." She broke off and tapped a key. The picture disappeared. "It's obvious you are nothing like that," she said finally.

"Thank you," he said, touched. "You and Lark have been wonderful, trusting me the way you do."

"I knew I could, the first time I saw you," she said confidently. "And Lark, well, he's very quick with people."

"Yes," Shadow agreed. He felt like hugging her for that vote of confidence but was not sure what her reaction would be, so he changed the subject. "Can you find the Key?"

"Just a moment," she said, working quickly. But although she tried various queries and different phrases, she got no results. Finally she sighed in frustration. "Does it have another name?"

"I don't know," Shadow said. "Martin didn't say anything else, you were there."

"Can't you ask him?"

"I'll try," he said, concentrating. After a while he could 'see' the dragon was still safe within the shield - a fact of which he was well aware - and he also suddenly 'knew' more about the Key. "It's also known as the Key of Time," he said.

"Alright," she said. "I'll try that." But even with the new information she was unable to find anything. "I give up," she said at last. "Perhaps those old vampire guys can come up with something. After all, they actually lived when this Key was a common item or something."

Shadow, who had become increasingly despondent at the lack of results, perked up. "I hope you're right," he said. "Let's go ask them."

"In a minute," she said. "I just want to check my messages." What she read had her staring in wide-eyed shock at the screen. "Oh dear," she murmured. "This is bad." She stood up abruptly and tugged on Shadow's arm. "Come on, I need to speak with Lark."

Shadow followed meekly as she pulled him along at a near run. He did not know what was going on but suspected that it concerned himself and Martin somehow.

**x.**

Lark looked up, surprised when Lume walked into his office without knocking.

"Have you seen the news?" she asked without preamble. Behind her, Shadow lifted his hands in bewilderment.

"No," Lark said calmly, wondering what could have agitated his normally placid aide. "What's going on?"

Something very strange is happening all over Nirn," she said. "They're describing 'pockets' where people seem to get caught in time."

"What do you mean?" Larked asked as her statement could be understood in at least two ways. "Caught in time for what?"

She made a sound of disgust, mostly at her inability to express herself clearly. "They are getting stuck where they are and can't move on," she tried to explain. "Hundreds of cases have been reported and more are appearing as we speak."

Lark frowned, trying to comprehend the strange concept. "Physically stuck?"

"Yes," she said. "Like they're frozen or petrified in amber or something."

"And you think... what?" Lark wondered.

"I don't know what to think," she threw her hands into the air. "All of this is completely impossible. Vampires, dragons, magic... all of it!" She heard the hysteria in her voice and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. What's more is, I can't find a single thing to tell us where this Key of Akatosh or Time could possibly be!"

"Time?" Lark asked, his attention caught.

"Yes, Shadow asked Martin if it had another name," she replied.

Lark met Shadow's eyes over her head. "And he said it's called the Key of Time? Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

Shadow shook his head. "No coincidence, I'd say."

Lume twisted around to look at him. "What are you... oh, time!" she realized. "Could it be?"

"Martin did say that more was at stake than just his own liberty," Lark mused. "I'm beginning to think this is much bigger than we thought."

"Then the Key should provide the solution to both Martin's problem as well as whatever is happening to Nirn," Lume said.

"But you couldn't find it," Shadow said, depressed.

"No clue?" Lark asked, raising an eyebrow.

She sighed dejectedly. "Nothing at all. I had hoped that you or your friend might have found something."

"If anyone can, it's Hassildor," Lark smiled. "Let's not despair just yet."

**xi.**

"Yes, sir," Lark said, holding the telephone away from his ear as the voice on the other end took on an even shriller tone. "No sir, I have no idea what the cause of these effects is. My best people are working on it right now." He listened patiently for a while. "Am I to understand I can commandeer any resources needed... yes, sir... global emergency... Of course, sir, you'll be the first to know. Thank you... yes... goodbye, sir." He put down the phone and gave a long-suffering sigh. "That was the President," he told his fascinated audience.

**xii.**

"Nothing," Hassildor said, his face uncharacteristically drawn with worry.

The reports of the strange phenomena kept coming in from all over Nirn, and it was becoming apparent that, for all that it was a slow and quiet invasion, it was an invasion nonetheless. More and more people were getting stuck in time (or space). People around them could interact with them; they could even communicate, but they could not move from where they were. It was only a matter of time before everyone on the planet was affected.

"I have tried all of my contacts," he continued. "None of them has even heard of an artefact called the Key of Akatosh or the Key of Time. If it once existed, the knowledge is now lost." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Lark."

"It's not your fault," Lark said, feeling Hassildor's disappointment all too keenly himself. "Thank you for trying."

Lume took a cheese stick from the bowl in front of her and nibbled on the end. "The problem is that we don't even know what kind of artefact it is," she said after swallowing. "I mean, you can call anything a key, and it might not be something that opens an actual lock, right?"

Lark nodded slowly. "You're right, it could be anything."

Beside Lume, Shadow stirred. "Perhaps..."

Everyone looked expectantly at him.

"It might not be an artefact at all," he said slowly.

"What else could it be?" Hassildor asked testily. He had already spent days trying to track down the Key and did not relish the prospect of starting again.

Shadow understood Hassildor's frustration, but he felt a growing urgency to be moving somewhere or doing something. The imposed waiting while Hassildor, Lark and Lume plied their sources of knowledge was wearing his nerves thin, thinking that one of them might get caught at any time.

"What about a spell?" Lume asked while Shadow was still contemplating Hassildor's question.

"I don't think..." Hassildor began but Shadow got a shaft of excitement from Martin at that moment.

"Martin agrees," Shadow interrupted.

"Really?" Lark regarded him with bright eyes. "I wish Martin would speak to us directly."

"You know how hard it is for him," Shadow started, but sensed that Martin was willing. "But he'll try." He held himself passive and a few moments later had the strange experience again of hearing someone speaking with his mouth. Even his voice sounded different.

"Hello Lark."

Lark smiled involuntarily. "Hello Martin." He leaned forward as if that could bring him closer to Martin. "I'll be quick. Do you know what's going on with the world?"

Martin gave a mirthless chuckle. "Only that I'm stuck in one of those things," he said. "I was sent to investigate the phenomenon and got caught."

Lark, Lume and Hassildor stared at each other in astonishment.

"I thought the Daedra had captured you," Lark said finally.

"No," Martin said. "They found me and made the most of my helplessness. By the way, thank you for the shield," he said in heartfelt tones.

"You're welcome," Lark said. "So this Key we have to find might be a spell?"

"I'm not sure," Martin replied after a moment. "But it's the only remaining option."

"But where will we find it?" Hassildor demanded.

"I think you might already know, Count Hassildor," Martin said.

"Martin," Lark protested. "Can't you just tell us?"

It took a long moment before Martin responded, and then his voice was noticeably weaker. "I don't know where to look NOW," he said. "But the Imperial Library held much information..."

"It was destroyed!" Lark said. "Martin?" But there was no response.

Shadow took a deep breath. "Sorry, that's all." He felt lightheaded after the exchange. "I think he's unconscious."

Lark banged his hand on the table in frustration, then hung his head in apology as it made Lume jump. "I'm sorry. I just don't know how we're going to find the way to learn a spell from a library that's been destroyed for over four hundred years! The place doesn't even exist anymore!"

"Well," Hassildor said reluctantly. "Not everything was destroyed."

Lark turned to look at him. "You know something," he said, beginning to relax.

"I know an awful lot!" Hassildor snapped. Lark just grinned at him until he smiled and shook his head. "I do know this: Before the Imperial City was sacked, an Elder Scroll was stolen from the Imperial Library."

"Impossible," Lark said. "Isn't it?"

"It was a daring feat of utmost skill," Hassildor said. "Someone from the Thieves Guild got in, and out again with an Elder Scroll."

"Alright," Lark said. "So an Elder Scroll might have survived. But where do we find it now?"

"Ah, but I know who had it stolen," Hassildor said.

"Who?"

"My esteemed colleague, Count Umbranox," Hassildor revealed.

"The Count of Anvil? My father used to work for him," Lark said, surprised. "Why would he steal an Elder Scroll?"

Hassildor grinned. "Funny you should say that." He kept on chuckling for a while. "No, it's not important," he said finally. "What is important is that I inherited his library."

"You're joking!" Lark said. "You've had it all this time?"

Hassildor shrugged ruefully. "I didn't know it was relevant to our current problems. Besides, we still don't know if it will be of any help."

"It must be," Lark said. "It's our last hope, in my opinion. How soon can you get it?"

"I can leave right now if you have a helicopter and a pilot available," Hassildor said agreeably.

"I'll go arrange it," Lume said and quickly left.

Lark stood up. "Wonderful! I'm glad we're getting somewhere at last!"

Shadow heartily agreed.

**xiii.**

"Now wait a minute," Lark said as Hassildor prepared to unroll the antique scroll. "Weren't these things supposed to turn you blind when you looked at them?"

"Only with prolonged study," Hassildor assured him. "I've been taking short looks for centuries and there is nothing wrong with my eyesight."

"Are you sure?" Lark asked, a devilish gleam in his own eyes as he pointed to Hassildor's feet so that Lume and Shadow could notice the mismatched socks.

Hassildor aimed a mock blow at him. "You insisted on utmost haste," he said with exasperation. "Stop wasting time now."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Lark said. "Go on, unroll it."

Hassildor carefully unrolled the scroll, which was creaking with age. As he spread it gently open on the table, everyone leaned forward eagerly.

After a moment Lume spoke. "I can't read a single thing."

"Neither can I," Lark muttered, looking at the strange diagrams and incomprehensible script. "Shadow, does anything look familiar?"

Shadow had to reply in the negative. "I also sense only confusion from Martin," he added.

Lark nodded. "He never had the opportunity to study the Elder Scrolls." He looked at Hassildor who was patiently waiting. "I hope you can make sense of it."

"Perhaps a bit more than you can," Hassildor said. "The Elder Scrolls are very magical. With study, one can access levels upon levels of information on this one scroll."

"Can you see anything about the Key?" Lark asked.

"Give me a minute," Hassildor said as he started to read.

As time passed the others drifted away. Lume and Shadow went to sit at a corner table where Lume showed him a map of modern Tamriel. Lark left to report their progress to his TBI colleagues. Later he came back, followed by his kitchen staff carrying trays of food for lunch.

They ate, talking together in low voices so as not to disturb Hassildor who had not so much as budged from the table with the scroll since he had started.

Sunset had deepened into dusk by the time that he finally stopped. He got up, stretched and came over to where Lark sat, grabbing some snacks along the way. "I think I have it," he said between bites. "There is a spell called 'Master of Time' which seems to deal with managing or influencing time." He accepted a glass of juice that Lume handed him. "Thank you, my dear. The spell is quite complex, Lark. Do you want to try and learn it yourself?"

Lark shook his head regretfully. "I never was much good with any but the normal spells," he said. "You've been a great help, my friend, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to become even more involved. You're the only one who can learn the spell and cast it."

Hassildor rolled his eyes. "I thought I was involved already."

"I wasn't planning on making you go to Oblivion," Lark said. "But it looks as if we'll have no other choice."

"It will be an interesting experience," Hassildor said. "Don't fret, Lark. I was going to insist on going with you anyway."

"It just proves you're crazy," Lark smiled. "So it will be you, me and Shadow."

"And me!" Lume said indignantly.

The two vampires immediately began protesting but Shadow was strangely quiet, she noticed. When she could get a word in edgewise, she made the most of it. "I am going with you, you can't stop me," she said implacably.

"What will you do there?" Lark asked reasonably. "Shadow is the guide, Janus is the mage with the spell..."

"And what about you?" she interrupted impudently.

"And Martin specifically asked for me," Lark completed his sentence. "You were never mentioned."

"It's not fair!" she said. "I have a right to go, I was in from the start!"

"It will be too dangerous, Lume," Lark maintained. "I can't allow it."

"I would like her along," Shadow said suddenly.

Lark gave him a piercing stare. "Why?"

"I don't know," Shadow said. "But I have a feeling that she should go."

"Did Martin say so?"

"Yes," Shadow lied, knowing that Lark would never believe his own feelings but would unquestioningly accept Martin's. "She could be important."

"Oh, very well," Lark sighed. "You can go, Lume."

She flashed him a brilliant smile. "You won't regret it."

Lark scowled at her. "Janus will need a day or so to master the spell. You have that much time to master self defence and some kind of weapon, otherwise I'm leaving you behind, no matter what anyone says."

"Yes sir," she said meekly.

"I'll teach her self defence," Shadow volunteered unexpectedly. "If I can also get some weapons training at the same time."

Lark referred them to Rufus, the captain of his security team, and watched bemused as they left side by side. "What a time for budding romance," he sighed, turning back to watch Hassildor studying.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3: Mission**

**i.**

It was three days before Hassildor declared himself ready. In that time Shadow had learned to shoot with automatic weapons, but he had also insisted on practicing with a katana, at which he proved to be quite adept.

Lume had demonstrated even to Lark's sceptical satisfaction that the fencing and unarmed combat she had practiced at university were still fresh in her mind. She could hold her own with a sword against Shadow and Rufus, and took them by surprise by using some sneaky tricks borrowed from unarmed combat to swing the odds in her favour even when her opponent outweighed her. She could also shoot well enough that Lark finally admitted grudgingly that she would not be a liability on the mission.

Lark had pulled every string in his considerable arsenal and got them outfitted with the latest in armour, specially designed to be nearly invisible. Covered with 'intelligent' fabric, the armor took on the colour of its surroundings, allowing the wearer to blend in like a chameleon. Lark found it ironic that technology now provided the same function as a simple Chameleon spell once did.

He also requisitioned a number of enchanted items from museum collections. Getting the items was only a problem in the cases where the museum staff were already caught in time bubbles, but Lark's agents soon became adept at picking display case locks.

When Hassildor appeared on the afternoon of the third day, everything was prepared. Lark called his team together and handed out uniforms, armour and jewellery.

"This enhances your speed and agility," he said, giving Lume a ring. "You're already quick; wearing this you should be able to avoid anything aimed your way."

"Awesome," Lume breathed.

To Shadow he gave an amulet. "You already have a shield, and you look like you can take care of yourself in a fight, so I'm giving you something to enhance marksmanship."

Shadow accepted it, grinning. "You've seen my shooting range results."

Lark smiled. "You need all the help you can get."

"Nothing shiny for me?" Hassildor asked when Lark just gave him a uniform and armour.

"I'm sure you have everything you need," Lark said, eyeing the rings already on Hassildor's fingers.

"True," the vampire Count grinned. "So, when do we leave?"

"Now," Shadow said, eager to get going.

"We have to keep something in mind," Lark cautioned. "When we get to Oblivion, Martin's shield will be reduced to 20."

"Actually, it will be closer to 10 then," Hassildor interrupted. "Shared between the two of them."

"Of course," Lark said. "So we'd better time it so that we get there when Martin is left alone. That will also help us out: less fighting to do."

Shadow shook his head. "I don't think we have to worry too much about that." At Lark's enquiring look, he explained. "They've not been so eager to attack Martin for the last two days. Martin thinks they they're discouraged by their lack of success, but also that they have other things to worry about."

"Other things?"

"Same as here, Shadow said shortly, glancing at Rufus who had gotten caught on the stairs that morning.

"Ah," Hassildor said. "That brings me to my question. Should I practice the spell on Rufus here, or will we wait until we get to Oblivion to see if it works?"

"By all means, practice," Lark said, wondering why he had not thought of that.

Hassildor nodded, said some strange words and made a curious gesture. A glowing ball of light enveloped him, and nothing else happened.

"Um, isn't he supposed to do it to Rufus?" Lume asked softly.

Hassildor glanced around, irritated. "I'm open to suggestions," he said. "This spell is apparently not meant to be cast at a target. Now what?"

Lark smothered a smile, for it was indeed not funny if they could not get the spell to work. "Try touching Rufus," he suggested. "See what happens."

Hassildor walked to where the guard captain stood on the stairs, the glowing light trailing behind him, then catching up when he stopped moving.

Rufus watched with wide eyes as Hassildor reached out with a glowing hand and gripped him on the shoulder. "Hey, I can move!" he cried, demonstrating by swinging his arms. Hassildor let go and Rufus froze in place again. "Darn it."

Hassildor paused for a moment. "I wonder..."

He touched Rufus' shoulder again and said a strange word. The light flared up and everyone blinked. When they opened their eyes again the light was completely gone and Rufus was free.

He grabbed Hassildor's hand and shook it. "Thank you, sir!"

"Don't mention it," Hassildor said, turning back to Lark. "Well, it works."

"Great," said Lark. "Alright, can you go around Nirn and unfreeze everyone, please? It should take a year or so." When Hassildor just glared at him, he sobered. "Obviously that's not an option. We will go free Martin, because he has something to do with this, and then we will try to find a solution to this problem."

"Right!" Lume said, fired up. Shadow nodded.

"So, everyone gear up, we'll leave at dusk," Lark said decisively.

They all took their bundles and left to get ready.

**ii.**

"Aren't you afraid?" Shadow asked softly as he watched Lume filling her backpack with provisions.

She flashed him a quick look. "Of course not, are you?"

"Yes," he said simply, causing her to stop and look at him closely.

"What of?" she asked.

"I fear what will happen once we have freed Martin."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid that I will wake up," he said slowly.

She could think of nothing to say to that. "I'm afraid I won't know what to do... if something attacks me," she admitted.

"You will know and act," he assured her. "You're well-trained."

"But I have never done anything like this..."

"You can stay behind," he said. "I would like you to be safe."

"No, I'm coming with you," she said, squaring her shoulders. "If you can face your fear and move to meet it, then so can I."

"Then we'll face our fears together," he said.

**iii.**

"Where to?" Lark asked Shadow, as they climbed into the helicopter.

"Back to the cave, I think," Shadow replied. "But I'm not sure I can find it again from the air."

"A cave near Chorrol?" Lark asked. "History has a way of repeating, my friend. I think I know the place."

He gave instructions to the pilot who lifted the 'copter from the pad and banked away towards Chorrol. Beneath them the twinkling lights of Cyrodiil City stretched out as far as the eye could see.

"Things sure have changed a lot," Hassildor said, voicing Lark's very thought.

"I can't say I miss the monsters and bandits and evil vampire clans," Lark replied.

"Not to mention the vampire hunters," Hassildor added. "Civilization is indeed more comfortable."

"If a bit dull," Lark smiled.

"It's not dull at the moment," Hassildor said, yawning to prove his lie. "Don't worry, I'll wake up when the action starts."

"I hope so," Lark said. He looked into the back of the 'copter where Lume was holding Shadow's hand - both hands. He was about to make a sarcastic remark when he noticed that Shadow was trembling and seemed to be a pale shade of grey rather than his usual midnight black. "What's the matter?" Lark called over the engine noise.

"He's never flown before," Lume yelled back. "Tell the pilot to stop doing acrobatics with this thing."

The pilot was flying perfectly steadily, but Lark could understand Shadow's apprehension. "It's not far now," he yelled in reassurance. Lume flashed him a grin and went back to giving Shadow lots of attention. Lark suspected - perhaps unfairly - that she was glad of the chance.

"I should have thought of this," he said to Hassildor.

"You've been thinking of a lot of things," Hassildor excused him. "Besides, I would not have been happy to walk to Chorrol just because our guide doesn't know modern transport."

Lark laughed. "How about riding a horse?"

"I like modern technology," Hassildor said. "You are welcome to ride a horse or walk. I'll fly; it's much more dignified for a person of my status."

"Unknown eccentric recluse?" Lark asked innocently, then had to fend off a vengeful vampire for a second. "I yield, I yield," he laughed, then quieted. "There it is."

The helicopter landed in a nearby parking lot, and they disembarked, carrying their weapons and packs, to stare at the track leading up through the brush to the cave.

"Well, let's go," Shadow said, shouldering his pack. Checking to see if everyone was ready, he resolutely led the way.

**iv.**

It was as dark as night in the cave.

"Torches, everyone," Lark said, switching on his own. Thinking back he could hardly believe he had once lived in this cave.

"Torches won't help you for long," Shadow warned as he took the lead into the depths.

"Why not?" Lark wanted to know. The whole thing confused him as he knew every inch of the cave and it did not go down very deep. It certainly did not have a portal to Oblivion in it.

"I can't really explain it," Shadow said. "But we won't be here for long. In fact," he stopped walking and waited for them to catch up. "I'd better lead you from here on." He held out his hand and Lark took it after a moment. "Lume, you take Lark's hand... yes, and Hassildor, you... alright, let's go."

They trooped after him like a group of toddlers on an outing. Within a few steps Hassildor's torch - no-one else had a hand free to hold one - began to grow dim. He slapped it against his thigh to no avail.

"Batteries must be going," he muttered.

"No," Shadow said. "Put it away; it will be darkness from here on."

"Can you see?" Lark asked curiously as Shadow led them without hesitation through the dark.

"No," Shadow replied. "But I know where I'm going."

They could not tell how long it lasted, that walk through blackness. There was a firm, smooth surface beneath their feet; they never stumbled. They could feel the pressure of another's hand in theirs, and they could hear each other's voices; that was all.

Lark and Hassildor took to teasing each other again, and Lume smiled at their antics, but Shadow just kept moving onwards, towards a destination he knew and a destiny he feared.

**v.**

"I can see something," Lume said, peering intently. After a while she recognised the vague shape as Lark, just an arm length ahead of her.

"Yes," Shadow said. "We're moving into Oblivion. I recommend caution and stealth from now on."

They all quieted and watched as the landscape solidified around them. A glowering red sky bathed everything in lurid light, and cruel black rocks jutted every which way into the air. Hideous towers dotted the land between pools and streams of molten rock.

Finally Shadow stopped. "You can let go now," he said softly. "You'll need your hands. If we move quickly we may get to Martin without being noticed."

"Shouldn't we wait until dark?" Lark asked.

"There is no night here," Shadow said. "But Martin says it's quieter now."

Lark nodded in agreement and they moved on, walking carefully along a trail that skirted the edge of a river of lava. The heat was intense but their armour shielded them from most of the discomfort.

The trail took them along the river for a while, and then Shadow left it and cut across a rocky slope to the right. He halted on the crest, giving them a chance to catch their breath and spy out the lay of the land.

"Look, over there," he said softly, pointing to a group of Dremora. Everyone ducked behind the rocks, fearful of being seen. They carefully watched the Dremora for a few minutes, and in that time none of the creatures moved at all.

"They're caught," Shadow said finally.

Hassildor grinned. "It couldn't have happened to nicer people."

"It's a large group to get stuck," Lark said. "It seems to be worse here."

"Well, I'm here to help," Hassildor said. "Should I go over there and free them?"

He raised his hands in surrender as Lark threatened to choke him. They were so intent on their scuffle that neither noticed that a Dremora had sneaked up behind them. Shadow, planning a route past the group down below, did not see him either.

It was Lume who noticed the creature; who saw it cast a spell; who made a spectacular leap - aided by the ring she wore - and pushed Hassildor out of the way just as the lightning bolt would have struck him. She rolled back to her feet and shot the Dremora before any of the others had even moved. The Dremora toppled slowly to the ground and lay still. She stared for a moment at the creature she had killed, then walked away blindly.

Hassildor picked himself up. "Good thing she came along," he remarked, dusting off his armour.

"Yes," Shadow said. "But what will it cost her?" He followed her to where she leaned against a rock. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She turned to him and let him hold her for a while. Finally she moved. "I'm fine now," she said. "I've never killed..."

"I know," he said. "But you acted when it was necessary. I am proud of you."

She smiled bravely. "I faced my fear."

"You did," he said, giving her a quick hug. "Come on, we have to move on."

They walked back to Lark and Hassildor. Lark came to meet them, obviously embarrassed. "Thank you, Lume," he said. "You did great."

She stopped. "Don't talk to me! You're the one who said I would be a liability on this 'mission', and then you two come here and act like a couple of kids! I'm just glad I could do something, otherwise you would have had no-one to cast your precious spell!"

Hassildor lifted up his hand to draw attention to the enchanted rings he wore. "In point of fact..." he started.

"Shut up, Janus," Lark hissed at him. Looking back at Lume he hung his head. "You're right, Lume. We acted irresponsibly and I apologise. I've underestimated you and I'm glad you came along." He put every ounce of sincerity into his apology, hoping it would mollify her. He certainly did not want discord in the team. He nudged Hassildor. "Apologise."

Hassildor sighed. "Oh, very well. I'm sorry too, Lume. And thank you for saving me from getting a nasty shock."

Lark shook his head. Even he would not fall for Hassildor's attempt.

"Men," Lume sighed. "What did I expect?" she asked rhetorically. "Are we all done? Then let's go find Martin and get this over with."

**vi.**

"Do it now," Lark urged, keeping a nervous eye on the crowd of frozen Dremora surrounding the prone dragon.

Hassildor gave a decisive nod and started the invocation while Lume and Shadow also kept watch. They had skirted around an astounding number of frozen Daedric creatures, but there were enough still on the prowl that the journey had been anything but uneventful. Standing now at the head of the dragon – it was hard to think of it as Martin – they all wanted to get away as soon as possible.

Hassildor finished his chanting and the glowing light surrounded him again. He stepped forward, laid his hand on the dragon's immense snout and spoke the final command. The light flared.

The dragon lifted its head and Shadow spoke up. "He says he can move."

"What about the shackles?" Lume asked suddenly, pointing at the chains that still bound the dragon.

Shadow smiled. "He says not to worry, just wait a moment."

The dragon began to shimmer like something seen through heat waves. The shimmering increased until all they could see was a blur, and then the blur refocused until a man remained standing in the dragon's place. He wore a simple grey robe, and as he walked forward the shackles slipped off his hands and feet and he was free.

"Martin," Lark whispered. "I didn't really believe it." He stood as if rooted to the ground, staring at his long lost friend until Martin came and embraced him.

"Thank you, my friend," he murmured, patting Lark on the back. "We have to get moving," he then said, taking charge. "This place is not safe; already the Daedra are coming to investigate." He pointed to a large contingent coming towards them.

Hassildor and Lume grabbed at their weapons, but Martin stopped them. "It's no use fighting. I can get us away if you'll trust me."

Hassildor grinned. "We came all this way to free you, Your Majesty. Of course we trust you."

Martin looked startled at Hassildor's use of his title, but let it pass. "Alright, I'm going to shift back to dragon form. When I'm done, get on my back, all of you. Oh," he added. "Count Hassildor, when you're all on my back, cast your spell again, but keep it active – that way we'll be protected from the time phenomenon which is rampant in these parts."

Hassildor nodded his understanding and Martin blurred back to dragon shape. They scrambled up his enormous folded wing and unto his back. Lark sat in front, then Hassildor, Lume and Shadow. Hassildor started the invocation even as Martin launched himself into the air with a powerful push of his legs; then his great wings beat down and they were flying.

Beneath them the Daedric creatures howled but could only watch in frustration as their prey escaped. Hassildor cast the spell and the glowing light surrounded them all as Martin flew onwards, past towers and volcanoes, to a far black silhouette of high mountains against the red sky.

Lark was grinning madly; high on the joy of seeing Martin again as well as the thrill of flying on a dragon. Hassildor for once did not look bored. Lume could not decide between being terrified or astounded, so she settled for looking back to see how Shadow was doing. He was clinging to the dragon's back with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, intent on just surviving one more inexplicable experience in a long string of events he had no control over.

**vii.**

Martin settled on a wide ledge high in the black mountains, and his passengers slid off his back. As they were rubbing sore muscles from sitting in unaccustomed positions, he changed back to his human form.

"Thanks for the rescue," he said when they all just looked at him. "I feel as if I know you all... Lark, it has been too long."

Lark merely nodded.

"Count Hassildor," Martin continued. "Thank you for finding and learning the spell. It may be the one hope we still have."

Hassildor grinned, but his face was showing lines of fatigue due to still having to keep the spell active. "Glad to help."

"I will help you maintain the spell," Martin promised. He turned to Lume. "You must be Lume," he said. "I have seen you through Shadow's eyes. Thank you for coming to help me."

Lume regarded him steadily, having found confidence in herself on the journey. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said. "I'm just sorry that my people have forgotten you."

He smiled. "I'm not surprised. I always tried to live a normal life, and such are not noteworthy."

"Still," she started to protest but he had turned away. She subsided as he faced Shadow.

"Thank you most of all, my friend," Martin said. "You have suffered so much to free me. I have nothing to give you, but I can send you home now if you wish."

Shadow stared at him for a moment, then looked at Lume as if asking for advice.

She felt her insides clench in fear of losing him, but forced herself to show nothing. "If you want to go home..." she said, wanting him to stay but unwilling to influence him either way.

Shadow looked down. "I can't remember home," he muttered. After a moment he looked Martin in the eyes. "I'll stay," he said decisively. "You may still need me."

Martin nodded and reached out to grip Shadow's arm in appreciation. "Still you offer more," he said softly."But we may indeed need you. We have a dangerous road ahead of us yet."

"Can you tell us what's going on?" Lark asked. "And how you came to be here?" He paused. "And, where have you been for so long? I though you had died."

Martin smiled. "Let's sit down and relax for a while, then. It's a long story." As everyone settled down he made sure he sat next to Hassildor, and placed his hand on Hassildor's arm. "I can help you with the spell," he explained. Whatever he did was not visible but Hassildor took a deep breath and relaxed as if he were refreshed somehow.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said.

"I am just Martin," Martin said gently.

"You are a Septim," Hassildor said. "I knew your father, very well. He would have been proud of what you accomplished."

Martin inclined his head in acceptance. "My father knew, as do I, that no man can escape his destiny. I was born to face Mehrunes Dagon; all my life and training had lead up to that event, and I was willing to sacrifice everything to save Tamriel from the Daedra. I fully expected to die, but when I had prevailed, and was waiting for death, I was given a choice."

"A choice?" Lark asked. "Who by?"

"Akatosh, whose avatar I had become," Martin said and they gaped at him in astonishment. "Yes, my friends. I was given the chance to go to Aetherium for my deeds. I joined my father and his fathers in service to the Nine." He smiled. "I cannot describe to you a place of perfect beauty and light, because you cannot comprehend it. Time has no meaning there; neither has death or sorrow or regret. It is far removed from everything that happens in Mundus – your plane of existence – but it is still connected to the reality of our universe. So when we became aware of the strange time phenomenon in Oblivion, we knew that if it was left unchecked, it would in the end overtake us all. I volunteered to come and see how it manifested here, but I did not expect to get caught in it myself." He drew to a close with a wry smile. "Which is how we all now come to be here."

**viii.**

"Right," said Lark. "What's next?"

"Yeah," Lume said. "How do we stop this time bubble thing? We don't even know what it is or what is causing it."

"I know some things about it," Martin said. "Whatever is causing this is outside of Aurbis – our universe. At the same time, there is something that may be involved, buried in the depths of Nirn. This sounds confusing." He took a deep breath and tried again. "When Akatosh came into being, he shed some of his scales and they became the heart of Nirn." He noticed incredulous looks. "What?"

"His scales?" Lume asked.

Martin realized with a sense of shock that his audience did not truly believe in the Nine anymore. The history of how Nirn was created and Nine that fashioned it had been demoted to fanciful legends, with no basis in truth. He sighed deeply. "You're going to have to either believe that Akatosh, the dragon god of time, exists... or you're just going to have to come along without understanding," he said. "Akatosh truly is a dragon, and when he came into being, time started. His scales at the heart of Nirn anchors Aurbis in the flow of time. I think something is now interfering with that anchor, which causes the effects we've observed."

Lume shook her head as if to clear it. "Oh, this is so weird. But I'll try to keep an open mind."

"It's strange to me too," Lark said. "It's as if we've forgotten all that we knew to be true, with the coming of technology."

"Don't blame the technology," Hassildor protested. "It's the philosophers who argued away the existence of Aetherium, Oblivion and the Nine." He snorted. "If you can't see it or touch it, it isn't real," he mimicked. "Meanwhile I could cast spells that would make their hair stand up straight, but that would draw too much attention." He sighed. "So one adapts and talks along with current thinking and eventually, one forgets."

"Well," Shadow said slowly, having listened quietly for a while. "You now know that Oblivion exists – you're in it. And Aetherium exists, because otherwise Martin could not now be here. I would go on that and assume that Akatosh exists as well, especially since I've seen Martin become a dragon and I've flown on his back. At this time there is very little that I will not believe."

Lark grinned. "Well said. So, how do we find the scales? Will it do any good to go to them if the interference comes from outside? And what can possibly interfere from outside? How can there be anything outside the universe?" He laughed. "Oh dear, I've just asked enough questions to keep the philosophers busy for years!"

Martin joined in the laughter. "You never used to be this curious," he said. "As for the questions – I can take us to the scales. I don't know what we can accomplish there, but I have a feeling that that should be our next step. And outside this universe are countless other universes, like grains of sand on a beach. Who knows what else could cast an eye on our little corner of infinity?"

"Now you've lost me," Lark complained.

"You're right here," Martin teased.

"But where is here?" Lark asked in mock despair. "My poor head can't hold such vastnesses."

"Then look in your heart," Martin said softly, and they all nodded in understanding.

"Not to be insensitive," Hassildor said after a moment during which they all pondered infinity. "But where do we go from here? And for how long will I have to maintain this spell?"

"We must go back to Tamriel," Martin said. "We need to get some supplies before we go on to Morrowind. I'm afraid you'll have to maintain the spell constantly until we have eliminated the problem. We can't risk you getting caught and unable to free yourself." He touched Hassildor's arm again. "There, that should help for a while." Hassildor nodded, relieved. "Just remind me when I forget," Martin instructed the others.

"Back to Tamriel," Lark said. "The way we came?"

"No," Martin smiled. "The way is anywhere I want it to be. Is everybody ready? Then let's go."

He held out his hand, and Lark grasped it. As before they made a chain: Following Lark was Lume, Shadow and finally Hassildor. Martin lead them along the ledge and within a few steps it got dark as before.

"Why can't we see?" Lume complained as they walked.

"Because we are between planes of existence," Martin said. "There is no light here. Technically, there is nothing to breathe here, either, but the magic takes care of that."

"What magic?" Shadow asked. "When I came through before..."

"I opened the conduit through you," Martin said. "If you had tried, you could have done anything I can do." They heard him chuckle. "I suppose you still can. Do you want to turn into a dragon?"

"Not particularly," Shadow said. "But I wanted to ask you to tell me about where I came from, and why I can't remember it."

There was a long silence before Martin answered. "Well," he said. "This is a complicated issue, and I hope the answer won't upset you..."

"I need to know," Shadow said simply. "What am I?"

"You are a summoned soul," Martin said softly. "In past ages, practitioners of magic could trap souls of slain beings into crystal latices called soul gems, which were used to enchant items such as the belt you're wearing. Many such gems were never used, leaving the souls trapped in limbo for centuries. Somehow, when I cast my dream-call for help, you responded, so I summoned you from where you were trapped, into this body, made to resemble the creatures of Oblivion so that you could pass through them easily."

"But I seem to remember trees, and water..." Shadow said.

"That would be from your past life," Martin explained.

"And when you said you could send me 'home'?" Shadow asked, suddenly suspicious. "Would you have sent me back to eternal imprisonment?"

"No, my friend," Martin sighed. "I would release you to experience the beauty of Aetherium, even as I long to return to it myself."

Shadow was silent while he thought about this. "I think that would be nice," he said finally. "Thank you for telling me. I'm not upset; I'm relieved to understand my origins."

"I'm glad to hear that," Martin said, still leading them on through darkness.

"Your answer might not have upset Shadow," Lume muttered. "But it sure upset me."


	4. Part 4

**Part 4: Revelation**

**i.**

Martin banked to the right and glided in a slow spiral down into the gaping maw of Red Mountain. The huge volcano – which dominated most of the island of Vvardenfell – had been dormant for many centuries, ever since the Nerevarine had exterminated Dagoth Ur somewhere in the caverns below. When he reached the bottom of the crater, Martin back-winged and landed, blowing up clouds of ash and dust from the crater floor.

Amidst coughing and sneezing, his passengers got off and he transformed back to human form. "Sorry about that," he grinned as three pairs of eyes glared at him out of soot-streaked faces. Only Shadow looked no different.

"It will wash off," Lark said. "I hope." He looked at the scenery. "This is a dismal place." The crater floor was indeed depressingly devoid of life, with heat-blasted rocks, ash and cinders the only things to see. Here and there pools of sulfurous water bubbled, making the air nigh unbreathable. "Now what?"

"Now we look for a way down," Martin said. "The scales are somewhere far below us; I can sense them."

"So can I," Shadow said, surprised. "They're in a large cavern."

"Yes," Martin agreed. "It won't be easy to reach."

They found a tunnel leading downwards, almost hidden from sight beneath a large overhang. It was a tight squeeze to get in, and they had to push their backpacks ahead of them, or pull them behind, just to get through the first crack. Daylight faded almost as soon as they were through, and they donned helmets fitted with headlamps. Lark had procured everything from climbing gear to wet suits when Martin had told him they would be crawling through the bowels of the planet in search of their next objective.

At first the tunnels were as ugly as the outside landscape – lava tubes littered with broken rock and ash – but as they ventured deeper, the surfaces became polished until they were walking on iridescent volcanic glass. Their reflections followed them, skittering like mis-formed ghosts within the murky depths of the glass-like walls.

After several hours of walking, crawling, slithering, back-tracking and searching, they were all exhausted, and settled down to rest in an opalescent bubble that glowed with all the colours of the rainbow as their torches played on the walls.

Eating a meal of dehydrated rations, they all felt sorry for Hassildor who could not go to sleep, for fear of losing control of the spell. Martin helped him to regain magicka and fatigue levels, but could not supply him with much-needed rest. They finally decided to sleep in shifts so that someone would keep Hassildor company and help him stay awake. Lark took the first watch as Shadow, Lume and Martin gratefully crawled into their sleeping bags.

**ii.**

Shadow dreamed of tall trees on the bank of a stream winding through rolling green hills. He was creeping quietly through the undergrowth, on the trail of a deer that he was hunting. He held an elven bow in his hand, but had no arrow nocked, as he did not intend to harm the deer. He simply wanted to see if he could get close enough to get the deer in his sights; that was satisfaction enough for him.

He was close to his target and intent on moving as carefully as possible, when a sudden tingle on the back of his hands and his arms betrayed the working of magic. He fell back with a startled exclamation as the air shimmered and a figure materialized right in front of him.

"For Lord Dagon!" a rough voice shouted and a blade swept down at him.

He rolled away, desperately trying to gain his feet; trying to loosen his sword from its scabbard – just to see another attacker materialize almost on top of him. He had only a moment before the cruel weapons cut down and ended his life. Then there was a peculiar sense of being sucked into something small, and then...

"Shadow?" Someone shook him awake. "You're dreaming."

He struggled to get free of the sleeping bag, his heart racing. He could recall perfectly the feeling of being trapped, and he still could not get loose. Then the bag finally fell away and he jumped up, poised to fight – only to see Martin and Hassildor watching him with concern, while Lume and Lark were still sleeping quietly on the floor. He calmed himself down with an effort.

"What's the matter?" Martin asked when Shadow just stared at him.

"I've remembered who I am," Shadow replied slowly. "Or, who I used to be, before those assassins got to me." He looked at Hassildor. "You used to bounce me on your knee, 'Uncle Janus'"

Hassildor stared at him in incomprehension. "On my knee? But..."

"I am Ebel Septim, third son of Uriel Septim," Shadow said. "I visited Skingrad often with my father when I was little."

"You're my brother?" Martin asked, amazed.

"It would seem so," Shadow said, looking ruefully at his midnight skin. "I don't suppose there is any family resemblance."

"There is something... in the lines of your face," Hassildor said, looking at him closely. "This is astounding. You survived all this time trapped in a soul gem?"

"Fortunately I don't recall the time passing," Shadow said.

"So this is why is was so easy to summon you," Martin mused. "We're already linked by blood." He stepped forward and embraced Shadow. "I never thought I would meet a brother," he said, releasing him. "I was an orphan; so I thought – brought up as an only child. And when I found out who I was, my father and brothers had already been slain..."

"But didn't you say you joined Father in Aetherium?" Shadow asked.

"Father is there," Martin agreed. "But none of his sons, besides myself, managed to go there."

"Then they too, are trapped like I had been," Shadow exclaimed. "We have to free them!"

"We will find them," Martin promised.

Shadow nodded, looking at Lark and Lume, still sleeping on the ground. "Don't tell them yet," he said. "It's hard enough for Lume as is it."

"As you wish," Martin said. "We'd better wake them and get going anyway."

**iii.**

They stood in a cathedral-like cavern, looking with awe at the scene before them. The cavern floor and vaulted ceiling were covered in stalagmites and stalactites, ranging in size from the finest filigree to immense pillars fading up into the darkness. In the center of the cavern floor, a pedestal of golden rock rose up, and above that floated a glowing globe that bathed the cavern in shades of multi-coloured light. Having struggled for almost two days to reach this spot, they stood transfixed as they stared at the globe of light.

Finally Martin spoke. "This is it, my friends,"

"Very pretty," said Lume, and sat down on a boulder. She yawned. "I'm sorry, I'm too tired to be impressed."

"So am I," Hassildor said, following her example.

Lark shook his head at them. "This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen."

"It seems to be flawed," Shadow pointed out. The surface of the globe was indeed dull and dark in several spots. "Do you think that's the cause of the time phenomenon?"

"I can't think what else it could be," Martin said. "It's as if something is smothering it."

"So, what do we do about it" Lark asked. "It's huge, we can't even reach there."

"I could fly there," Martin said.

"Alright," said Lark. "Let's go."

"No," Martin said. "I'm not risking any of you. I'll go alone."

"Now wait just a minute!" Everyone protested but Shadow's exclamation was the most vehement. "What do you plan to do when you get there?"

"I don't know," Martin admitted. "I think I'll have to concentrate on burning away the flaws as I merge with the light."

"You mean you will die!" Lark cried. "I won't allow it. You have sacrificed enough."

Martin smiled at him. "Dear Lark, I can't die, but I can return to Aetherium. And that is what I long to do more than anything. There is nothing for me in Mundus, you know that."

Lark subsided, hurt - in ways he could not describe - to realize that Martin would not be staying. And yet, he understood the longing to be home, and Martin was right; he did not have a home on the mortal plane anymore. He nodded reluctantly. "I shall miss you, my friend."

"And I, you," Martin said. "But you know it is necessary."

"Actually, no," said Shadow. Everyone looked at him in surprise. "If you do this, and you fail... we will have no-one left to figure out how to stop this problem."

"What are you saying?" Martin asked.

"I will go," Shadow said. "You have the knowledge to try again if I should fail. I do not. But I can do what you can do, if you show me how."

Martin considered the suggestion, but Lume jumped to her feet. "You're not going to let him, are you?" she cried. "You've been using him from the start! Don't make him do your work for you!"

Martin hung his head at her accusation, knowing it was true and feeling the guilt for the suffering he had caused his brother.

Shadow intervened, grabbing hold of Lume's hand and squeezing it. "Hush, Lume," he said, and to her surprise, she did. "Don't feel bad, brother," he told Martin. "It is true you used me to escape, but you also freed me. And the cause is just and of utmost importance. I am of the Dragon blood, same as you. I know my responsibility and I will not seek to avoid my destiny."

"Brother?" Lark asked.

"Yes," Shadow said. "I am Ebel Septim, son of Uriel Septim."

"I played for you, once," Lark said after a dumbfounded moment. "At the palace."

Shadow smiled. "I remember that, sort of. You sang a song of hope, didn't you?"

"I did," Lark said.

"I would like to hear it again," Shadow said. Lume looked at him with eyes like pools of deep water. "Before I go," he continued.

"I don't want you to go," she said softly, tears welling up. "I thought..."

"I know," he said gently. "But it has to be. I am facing my fear, remember?"

She nodded, and swallowed to get her voice under control. "I will be brave for you."

He hugged her close. "Good girl." He turned to Lark. "Will you sing for me, Lark?"

"I don't have my lute," Lark said. "And I haven't sung for so long..."

"You had a fine voice, as I recall," Hassildor said, and Shadow nodded in agreement.

"Very well," Lark said. After a moment he started singing. His voice soared through the cavern as if a choir sang with him, and the words lifted their spirits and showed them a bright future in spite of darkness.

"_The sun still rises every day  
And the brightly glowing dawn  
With all her doors unopened  
Lights my never ending way_

_The steep and rocky upward slope  
Of that long and winding road  
Redefines with every step  
My unblemished sense of hope_

_Rainy days and rainy nights  
Purifies the smoky air  
To show my wond'ring eyes a feast  
Of new and far beguiling sights_

_As I see the endless bay  
All of nature seems to rise  
To join me on my journey  
To that long-awaited joyful day_

_Then I recall that all my days  
Had left me stranded here and now  
But still my steadfast sense of hope  
Will lead me on to brighter ways._"

As his voice faded away, none of them were left unmoved.

"Thank you," Shadow said huskily. "Goodbye my friends. May we meet again in Aetherium."

Lark grasped his hand. "I wish I had time to know you better."

Shadow smiled. "You have been a good friend."

He shook hands with Hassildor, wiped the tears from Lume's face and embraced her one last time, and then he faced Martin. "Promise me to find my brothers," he said, and Martin nodded. "Alright, show me what to do." As before, the knowledge came to him through the link between Martin and himself. He took a deep breath, stretched, felt his body expand, and became a dragon.

The others watched, entranced, as he took to the air; a creature of light and fire, air and movement – he glowed like the rising sun. From shadow to light, the change was the unveiling of his soul. What had been hidden by borrowed flesh was revealed to be a light surpassing that of the globe that he now approached.

As he came close to the globe, rays of light began to shine through the dull patches on the surface. The light intensified until it shone like the heart of a star, and the dragon merged and became one with it. It became so bright that they had to close their eyes. A single note, pure as a bell, rang out through the cavern, and the light subsided. When they opened their eyes it was to behold the globe, its surface now flawless and golden. There was a slight hum from the continuing note, still echoing through the cavern, and a sense of rightness filled their hearts.

"He did it," Martin said. "The flaw is repaired; the flow of time is restored."

Hassildor heaved a great sigh and let the spell dissipate. "That was... beautiful," he said with wonder.

Lume was crying and Lark went to comfort her. She clung to him. "It's not fair," she sobbed.

"No, it isn't," he said. "But it's what he wanted."

The idea of heroically sacrificing oneself was not enough to console her, and the memory of the golden dragon just brought her to fresh tears.

**iv.**

It was a quietly triumphant but suitably subdued group that finally emerged from the tunnels to look at the blasted crater landscape. For Lume the lack of beauty seemed appropriate, but Lark was subtly disappointed because of the unreasonable feeling that the world should look different now that they had solved the problem.

Martin transformed to dragon shape, and they could not help comparing him with Shadow's magnificent final form. Alike and yet different, Martin's immense frame seemed more substantial than Shadow's had been, and he lacked the intense glow, looking as a consequence more real and present.

They mounted and he took off, once again blowing up ashes with the beating of his wings. Then they were airborne and lifting over the rim of the volcano to stare down over the Bitter Coast to the Inner Sea on the horizon. He flew a straight course from Red Mountain to Cloud Ruler, passing over Skyrim and crossing the Jerall Mountains from the north.

Several hours later he landed in the courtyard of Cloud Ruler, to the consternation of Lark's security guards. They stormed out, weapons at the ready, to battle the mythological beast, only to stop in wonder when they saw Lark and Lume waving at them. The three passengers slid off and Martin resumed human form, at which most of the guards abdicated thought and settled for staring open-mouthed as the four people conversed.

**v.**

"This is it, my friends," Martin said. "Thank you for your help."

"You're really leaving?" Lark asked.

"I am," Martin confirmed. "My duty is now in Aetherium, I have no purpose here."

"What about your brothers?" Lume asked.

"They will be found," Martin said. "But it will take time. Perhaps, in Aetherium, a way can be devised to locate them."

"So we won't see you again," Lark stated.

"Not unless you come to join me," Martin smiled. "You know, I am glad that your modern medication can remove the symptoms of your disease, but I am saddened because it keeps you fettered to the mortal plane." He included Hassildor in his gaze. "You both have done Tamriel great service; it is sad that you won't let yourselves reap the reward."

"So, should we kill ourselves?" Hassildor asked facetiously.

Martin shook his head. "That wouldn't be right either. So I'm afraid this is farewell." He shook Hassildor's hand, kissed Lume on the cheek and embraced Lark. "Goodbye." They watched mutely as he stepped back and faded away.

"At least I know he's happy there," Lark sighed, turning to walk through the lane of trees to the entrance. Lume slipped her arm through his and Hassildor trailed along.

"Do you think things will be back to normal now?" she wondered.

"Until the next inexplicable phenomenon hits us, I'm sure," he smiled. "I'll have to promote you; you've been a great help."

"What? And have me do more of your work?" she asked in mock outrage. "Rather give me a bonus and a long vacation."

"Done," he laughed.

"And what of my reward?" Hassildor asked from behind.

"What can I give the man who has everything?" Lark said, only half in jest.

"The chance to go on a new adventure," an unexpected voice answered.

They turned in surprise to see an unfamiliar young man approaching through the trees. He was tall and well-built, with golden hair and piercing blue eyes. A smile played over crooked, clever lips.

Lume felt her knees grow weak as she looked at him. She removed her arm from Lark's and approached the stranger. "I know you," she whispered, and he smiled widely.

"That's because you illuminate the truth," he said, reaching out and touching her cheek.

"Shadow?" Lark asked incredulously, finally recognising through long-lost memories the face of the third Septim son. "Or, Ebel, I should say."

"Yes, Lark," he said. "I've come to hand out rewards." He reached into a pocket and pulled out two rings, which he handed to Lark and Hassildor. "These will transport you to Aetherium," he said. They gasped in surprise. "It was deemed fair that you should have the means to go where you deserve without having to destroy yourselves. But be sure that you are ready to go, because coming back to the mortal plane is difficult and not to be attempted except in utmost need." They nodded speechlessly.

He turned to Lume and looked at her for so long that she became embarrassed. "And me?" she asked. "What is my reward?"

He grinned at her. "Me, if you'll have me."

She gaped at him for a moment. "You're kidding, right?"

He looked at Lark for help, unsure if she was happy or angry or surprised. Lark nodded encouragingly, so he took heart. "No," he said. "Even in the brightness of Aetherium, my life would be dark without my Lume. So they let me come back to you."

Any doubts about her feelings disappeared when she threw herself into his arms.

**vi.**

"Yes sir," Lark said, doodling patiently on a piece of paper as he listened. "Well, I've been informed that the phenomenon was due to the effect of entropy in the universe, but with the help of beings from Aetherium, the Heart of Nirn has been re-energised and should hold good for many millennia." He drew rays of light shooting from a center point. "Yes sir, Aetherium is really real. So is Oblivion... yes, I know that is a lot to swallow. You don't have to if you don't want to." The voice rose in volume. "No sir, I'm not trying to be funny... One more thing, Mr. President. I regret that I will be resigning from my position as director of the TBI's information branch... Yes, I have a replacement. He's well qualified for the post. It's in his genes, I believe. His code-name is Shadow."

**vii.**

They were standing on the balustrade looking out over the City. Shadow stood behind Lume, his arms wrapped around her.

"This is perfect," she sighed contentedly. "Do you think they're happy?" she asked, referring to Lark and Hassildor who had finally left the mortal plane that morning.

"I am certain of it," he confirmed. "It's a wonderful place... but it doesn't have you," he added.

"Good thing, then, that they didn't want me," she smiled.

"Two dirty old vampires?" he said, shocked. "Not if I had any say in the matter."

"Luckily, you did," she said, snuggling deeper into his embrace. They stood in silence for a while. "What of your brothers?"

"That will be one of my tasks here," he said. "I don't suppose the government will mind very much if I use the TBI's new recruits to look for soul gems. It can be a training exercise."

She laughed. "I think that's a good idea. What is your other task?"

"Re-establish the Septim bloodline," he murmured into her ear.

She twisted round to face him. Seeing the tenderness in his eyes, she hugged him tightly. "Oh Shadow, I'll be glad to help!"

The sun set and millions of lights lit up the valley below, and the stars shone up above, but the brightest light in his eyes was Lume.

**The End.**

Author's Note: I don't have an author's note ... I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had, writing it. Please leave a comment if you liked it, even if you did not, then please let me know why, so that I can improve next time.

Disclaimer: Based on The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion by Bethesda Softworks, who came up with all the wonderful scenery and detail of the universe used here. I tried to keep within the established universe and cosmology but took some liberties so any mistakes are mine.


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